I Should Have Known Better
by Z. Riley
Summary: COMPLETE! Has SARS hit PrincetonPlainsboro Teaching Hospital? What is House's diagnosis? And how will he cope with having to work alongside the woman he still loves? Set after The Honeymoon, season finale.
1. Mondays

**I Should Have Known Better**

(Scene One: "Mondays")

_A/N: REVISED! That's right. The script style was no good. So here's a big thanks to **Alipeeps** for pointing out that it really wasn't the right type of format. I feel better about this but now, even though I'm still trying to get a feel for how to write House properly._

**Disclaimer: You know the drill: I own nothing, so please don't sue.**

* * *

Dr. Gregory House was making his way down the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital particularly slow that Monday afternoon, leaning heavily on his cane. House hated Mondays. He could never really get the hang of them; and while it was a leap of faith on his part, he did have a keen idea of what made Mondays so unfavorable. And House's keen ideas generally turned out to be fairly accurate.

His distaste for Mondays was probably due to the fact that Mondays usually seemed to involve…

"Clinic duty!" Dr. James Wilson said, smiling ear to ear. He reminded House of that damned Cheshire cat… For being the one person whom House could call a friend without cringing, Wilson could be damned annoying most of the time.

"Boy, the very idea makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," House replied, speeding up his stride slightly; not so much as to get to the clinic on time, but so as to get away from Wilson. He was one of the moods House hated the most. The I-know-House-will-still-call-me-his-friend-even-if-I-am-as-annoying-as-I-can-possibly-be sort of mood.

"Come on, House," Wilson said in a jovial sort of way, emphasizing this utterly maddening mood he was in.

It made House want to thwack him over the head with his cane.

"You can't hate all of the patents all of the time!" Wilson chuckled.

"Watch me," House raised both of his eyebrows, a gesture he often emulated when making snide comments.

House made his way through the immaculate glass doors that connected the clinic to the rest of the hospital. Once through the doors he ignored the nurse behind the counter, picked up a chart lying there, and opened the door into examination room one.

"It says here that you are experiencing congestion, sore throat, coughing, and some chest discomfort," House read off the chart, not bothering to look up or to give the person sitting on the exam table, nor the young woman standing beside him, time to register his presence.

"Yeah, that's right," replied the young man sitting on the exam table.

To House he didn't look to be all that old… maybe nineteen or twenty, ah, nineteen according to the chart, handy little thing that chart. He also looked like generally every other young person to walk through the clinic: stylish hair, hip clothing, and the whole being sick thing.

"Call me crazy, but that sounds like a cold doesn't it?" House snapped the chart he was holding shut.

"No, doc, this doesn't feel like any other cold I've had before," the young man said, shaking his head ever so slightly. This too, like Wilson's antics earlier, annoyed House to no end.

"Ah, well, there are these newfangled things called antibodies floating all around in your blood," House said in the patronizing tone that he generally reserved for patents, Foreman, Chase, Cameron, Cuddy, Wilson, and…well, primarily everyone to whom he'd ever spoken. "So, chances are this is not a cold you've had before."

"But he's burning up, just feel him!" the young woman, to whom House had paid no mind, spoke for the first time.

"If it's all the same, I'd rather not," House said, popping a few Vicodin.

"It's okay sweetheart… he probably knows what he's talking about…" the sickly young man said.

"Yeah, and he's probably right," House indicated his head in the direction of the exam table before exiting the room, leaving both teens feeling as though they had really not had much help at all.

A mere two hours later, and House was on his way back down the halls of the hospital, fighting the urge to trip orderlies and nurses with his cane. Turning a corner, he saw a young intern, prone on his back with papers strewn on the floor, while someone who had just helped him to collide into a recently opened door was apologizing profusely. House's sprits were beginning to take an upturn until…

"House!" Wilson jogged around the corner and to House's side.

"If you're coming to tell me I have more clinic duty I might just shove this cane up your a-"

"I've got a case for you," there was that damned Cheshire cat smile again.

"Why me?"

"Take a look, I think you'll be very interested," shoving the folder he had been holding into House's free hand, Wilson departed.

House stopped and looked at the contents of the folder with only mild interest before flipping the page. Upon reading what was written on the second part of the report, House continued his trek to Diagnostics, where he knew Foreman, Chase, and Cameron would be. They had a case.

* * *

MEANWHILE, IN DIAGNOSTICS

"What's a six letter word for arrogance?" Chase asked, scowling at the crossword puzzle that seemed destined to be his undoing.

"Hubris," Foreman replied, his feet crossed on the table upon which Chase was so diligently working, his head tipped back to look at the ceiling.

"What day is it?" Cameron asked, from behind the computer scene, where she was answering House's mail.

"Monday," Foreman said.

"I know that," Cameron said, sounding only slightly annoyed. "What's the date?"

"Oh… it's Monday," Chase groaned, dropping his pencil onto the top of his crossword.

"I know that but - "

"House has clinic duty…" Chase said, as though this news should be apparent to all, as well as a feeling of imminent doom.

"It's going to be a long day," Foreman heaved a sigh and dropped his feet to the ground as a folder dropped onto the center of the table.

"How so very wise you are, Dr. Foreman," House said, making his way to the whiteboard on the far side of the room.

Cameron moved to stand by Chase and Foreman as House wrote out symptoms on the board.

"This looks like a cold," Foreman said, matter-of-factly.

"So it would seem," said House, capping the dry erase pen and looking mildly amused.

"So why are we even sitting around here discussing it, then?" Foreman asked, obviously annoyed at the fact that House seemed to know something that he didn't.

House scrunched up his forehead and tipped his head to the side, as in thought. "We're doctors, we like this sorta stuff."

"But there's nothing we can do, if it's only a cold," Chase said, seemingly just as annoyed at House's antics as Foreman.

"It's not only a cold," Cameron said, eyes wide and darting from one symptom to another. "Sudden onset of high fever, dry cough, chills and shivering, muscle aches, and breathing difficulties…"

"Those _could_ all be signs of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome," Chase said slowly, scanning over the symptoms himself.

"Or, to put it simply, SARS," House said.

* * *

_A/N: More to come! I update promptly, I assure you. Any sort of comments are welcome. Especially criticism, God knows I could use some._


	2. SARS?

**I Should Have Known Better**

(Scene Two: "SARS?")

_A/N: Thanks to all the people who reviewed. **Alipeeps**, **extrabitter**, **bkwmkiwi**, and **BubblyShell22** you guys made my day. Those who didn't review but are still reading anyway, kudos to you too. I don't do this for the reviews (although I love feedback about what I should work on), I do it because I am firm believer that fanfiction helps you to perfect your craft… And in saying that, I believe that English teachers should assign fanfiction as an assignment. Please, read, and enjoy._

**Disclaimer: If I were brilliant enough to have thought of the personality for Dr. Gregory House I would not be here, I'd be in Hollywood, and filthy stinking rich.

* * *

**

"SARS symptoms are reminiscent of the flu, and are usually most commonly diagnosed as pneumonia," House said, as if that should have been obvious the whole time.

"The symptoms all fit… fever, cough, chill, muscle pain, breathing problems…" Foreman eyed the whiteboard.

"But we can't be sure, with just these few symptoms. I mean, what if it is just a nasty cold?" Chase said.

"Well, it'd be better if we didn't make that assumption," Cameron replied.

"Gee, you're right. We'll have to run some tests…now, how are we ever going to accomplish that? Hum…" House slapped his forehead with his free hand, "Oh! That's right, you're doctors!"

"Right. PCR tests. I'm on it," and with that Foreman exited the room.

"And we should do a test for antigens, just to see if that turns anything up," Chase said, following Foreman out of the room.

"I'll go take a medical history," Cameron said, almost as in a daze, still staring at the whiteboard. She grabbed the folder off the table and left the room. House hobbled after her.

* * *

"So who's our patent?" Cameron asked.

"No idea, you've got the chart, you tell me," House said.

"You haven't even looked at the patent's personal information yet?" Cameron said in disbelief. "So, whoever we're treating is just going to be a surprise to you?"

"Oh, you know me. I love surprises."

"Didn't you think that actually knowing something about the _patient_ might help us to figure out what's wrong?"

House stopped walking, scrunched up his forehead and tilted hid head to the side, a series of motions that were beginning to grate on Cameron's last nerve, even if she _did_ like the guy. She braced herself for the abrasive, snide, and House-determined witty comment she was about to endure.

"Nope, not really."

"You're unbelievable!"

"Aw, now you're just saying that 'cause you like me," House leaned on his cane.

Cameron made a sound of exasperation and pushed past House, determined to gather a proper medical history that would shed light on the patient as well as what was wrong with him… or her… House had never even mentioned a gender! Honestly, sometimes that man could just madden her to no end!

She made her way to the room designated on the folder she was holding. It wasn't a typical hospital room. Due to the fact that the patient… Mr. John Evans by the chart, ah, handy little thing that chart, may be highly contagious, his room was one of the few at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital that had been, well, modified.

The room was far more reminiscent of a surgical observation room than actual hospital quarters. There was John Evans, sitting up in his bed, a whole number of apparatuses attached to his person. He had a bedside table, television, and copious amounts of monitors surrounding his bed, very much like a standard issue hospital room. The door that Cameron has just walked through, however, did not lead straight into this room, as a normal hospital room would. It led instead to an observatory room. These quarantine rooms had always reminded Cameron of a viewing hall through which family members could see their newest addition.

There was a single chair in this hall-like room, and it's only decoration was a speaker box, located directly underneath the thick glass that separated the patient from the rest of the living, breathing, world.

It was a cruel irony, Cameron thought, that so many parents should have to see their children end up in rooms like this one, after having admired them once, not so long ago, in the maternity ward, in a similar hall.

As she entered the room, a voice drifted out of the speaker.

"What did my tests say?"

"The tests aren't quite finished yet. Dr. Foreman and Dr. Chase are working on them right now, it won't be much longer. But while we wait for them, I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's okay," Cameron said.

John Evans nodded. He was so young! Cameron quickly glanced down at his chart… Only nineteen! This was no place for a nineteen-year-old. She swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat.

Behind her, unbeknownst by herself, or the young man she was questioning, stood House. He leaned in the doorframe, observing a bedside manner that was entirely unlike his own… and a person entirely unlike himself.

"Do you still think it's only a cold?" House was taken out of his thoughts by the voice floating through the speaker box. The question had not been directed at Cameron.

John Evans sat, leaning to look around Cameron at the doctor he had just spotted. His tone was not angry, nor condescending, merely inquisitive.

"Do you two know each other?" Cameron asked.

"Oh, yeah, we're old friends," said House, making his way into the room and directing his attention toward John. "Seeing as you're the one sitting in the funny-looking room, that's kind of an odd question to ask."

"Hey, I didn't ask to be put under your microscope, okay? It was Allison, she did it."

Where had House heard that name before…ah, yes, the girlfriend. He opened his mouth to say something more when he heard a voice coming from the direction of the doorframe.

"Dr. House, can I speak with you a moment?" Stacy smiled at Cameron for a instant, before turning her eyes to House.

"What else have I got to do?" House followed her out of the doorway, leaving Cameron to finish taking her medical record.

* * *

Stacy was leading him back to her office, where she had just recently settled in.

"What, has someone decided to sue me for malpractice? Its Mark isn't it? You just couldn't twist his arm hard enough - "

"I've told you this a million times before, Mark is grateful for what you did for him. And no, no one is suing you for malpractice, but I'm sure that's the first time you heard that."

"Then what's with the serious lawyer face?" House said sardonically.

Stacy did not answer, but rather turned into her office. House followed. She closed the door, and took a seat at her desk. Her office was small, but not cramped. A large, oak desk took up most of the space in the room, but there was still room enough for a spare bookshelf or two, a few filing cabinets, and a large window, that overlooked the front of Princeton-Plainsboro.

House dropped into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the large, oak desk. He looked around the room, and took in its simple appearance.

"Love what you've done with the place," He noticed a picture on the corner of her desk. A picture of her and Mark smiling happily at the camera, obviously enjoying their vacation at wherever it was they were.

"You're treating a possible SARS case, and you haven't contacted a single plague center?" Stacy said, catching House off guard.

"Yeah, you know those plague guys," House said. "Once they hear I've got the interesting patient, they'll try to take him from me."

"Are you trying to get me fired?"

"Please, there are a lot more interesting ways to get you fired, personally I like the sound of sexual harassment."

"Greg, this is serious! You are legally bound to turn this man over to the Plague Center - "

"If they ask me to," House said, with just the barely visible hint of a smirk on his face.

Stacy's mouth hung open ever so slightly. "Do you mean to tell me that you aren't even going to report this?"

"There's nothing to report," House said standing. "All we've got is a kid with a cold."

And with that House opened the door to Stacy's office fully prepared to leave. There was, however, an obstruction in his path. The worst kind too. It was a person. A young person. And she looked oddly familiar…

"Dr. House?" questioned the young woman, in a surprisingly strong tone of voice for a person of her stature. "Dr. Cameron told me I'd find you here."

"Do I know you?"

"I'm Allison McGraw, John Evans' girlfriend. We met this morning," her voice remained even and, dare House even think it, quite powerful.

"Yes, Dr. House is treating John," Stacy stepped in.

"I think you need to explain to me exactly what is going on."

"From speaking with your boyfriend, it seems that you know more than I do about his present condition," House said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He was thinking desperately of a way to avoid talking to this young woman. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go." He turned on his heel and left.

"But Dr. House!"

"Sorry, important doctor stuff."

* * *

House made his way down the hall and into Diagnostics, whiteboard still scrawled across with symptoms. He noticed a few additions to the list: weakness, exhaustion, and sneezing.

"When did my handwriting get so girly?" he asked of no one in particular, although Cameron was in the room, right beside the whiteboard, in fact, pen in hand.

"Gimme that," House turned to her, and snatched the pen. "_I_ write on the board. _You_ stand over there, and admire me from afar."

Cameron huffed.

"Antigen tests came back negative," Chase announced, walking into the room, followed closely by Foreman.

"PCR tests were a negative, too," Foreman said.

"They aren't always definitive," Cameron replied. "The results of the test depend on the specimen as well as the time of testing during the course of the illness."

"Then run more tests," House said, matter-of-factly.

"You mean, continually run PCR tests on this kid?" Foreman asked.

"Until his symptoms begin to worsen, there's no way to tell how far along the virus is," Chase said.

"Unless…" House began, looking at the white board, "this isn't SARS at all."

* * *

_A/N: Okay, I did take a bit of literary license with this one. All I know medically is what I learned in three years of biology (a surprising amount of stuff, but only a small portion of which is useful in this particular story). I may not have all the medical stuff down exactly, but I tried my best to make it look like I knew what I was talking about. Also, I really was not sure about the legality involving the Plague Centers, I just had to get Stacy in there somewhere. You may flame me if you so wish._


	3. H5N1

**I Should Have Known Better**

(Scene Three: "H5N1")

_A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up. In response to** LonelyWord**, yes, I do know that Cameron's first name is Allison, and, no, it's not a coincidence that it's also the name of John's girlfriend. I'm glad you caught that. You're the only person to have mentioned it. There's greater importance to it, I swear. Well, I've kept you waiting long enough: go! Read!_

**Disclaimer: House is not mine, and I'm not pretending it is. I'm just having a bit of fun.

* * *

**

"Not SARS?" Chase asked.

Cameron scrutinized the whiteboard. "The symptoms aren't really - "

"Definitive?" House interrupted.

"Both tests did come back negative," Foreman added.

"Yes, but the PCR test, given the state of the specimen and the stage of the infection, isn't always - " Cameron started.

"Definitive?" House interrupted, yet again.

Cameron glared daggers at House. Honestly, sometimes he could such a… such a pain in the ass!

"So if it's not SARS, what is it?" Foreman asked.

"Oh, I dunno, a nasty cold?" House said.

"This isn't just a nasty cold," Cameron said. "You said so yourself, these symptoms are also in very close correlation with flu strains, sometimes even pneumonia."

"What was that, Miss Definitive?"

Cameron made an exasperated noise deep in her throat. It was one thing to patronize her in private; it was a horse of a whole different color to patronize her in front of her colleagues.

"So it's the flu, then?" Chase asked.

"Nope," House answered.

"Then what is it?" Foreman said.

"No idea."

* * *

"You're treating a possible SARS patient and you haven't contacted a single Plague Center?" Dr. Lisa Cuddy accosted House as he made his way, slowly, down the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro.

House wheeled to look at her. He was surprised that flames weren't shooting out of her nostrils, or steam coming out of her ears. He was also surprised to find Stacy following Cuddy's stride.

"You fink!" House turned his attention to Stacy.

"You knew!" Cuddy's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as she turned on Stacy, whose face was etched with sheer panic.

"Whoops," House said, and he turned to go, that was until he felt a vice-like grip on his elbow.

"Where do you think you're going?" Cuddy said.

"Oh you know, around, maybe check out the gift shop, I hear it's nice."

The look in Cuddy's eyes told House, however, that he was going nowhere.

"Look, if you two can't work together, that's fine," Cuddy started out, gesturing to House and Stacy, it seemed almost like a surrealist painting of a mother scolding her children. "But then act like _adults_ about it. I'm sure if there are serious issues we can work them out. In order to do that, though, we all need to be mature about this." Her eyes came to rest on House.

"Immature, who, me?"

"One more episode like this, House…" Cuddy's voice trailed off in a menacing fashion.

Cuddy walked off, leaving Stacy and House standing in the middle of the hallway, looking, for a brief moment, like they had just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Damn it, Greg!" Stacy regained use of her faculties first. "Can't you do _anything_ that someone would expect you to do?"

"Like what? Follow procedures, fill in medical charts, and actually go to clinic duty?"

"Yes!"

House shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Greg, if you can't deal with me being here then just say so," Stacy's voice was low, serious, and, to House's ears, a bit dangerous. He knew this voice.

"I can deal with you being here," House said, his voice low and serious as well.

"Good. The maybe you can start to act like a professional - "

"Stace…" House reached forward and held her wrist lightly.

There came the sound of a clearing throat just behind House. He quickly let go of Stacy's wrist and turned to face Cameron.

"I think you need to see this," Cameron said.

* * *

"Chase is sick?" House repeated for the third time. Even after all his years of being a physician it still seemed amusing to him that a doctor could, in fact, fall ill.

"Yes," Cameron said, her voice flat.

"And you've put him in a quarantine room?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He was treating John - "

"The SARS patient?"

"I thought you said he didn't have SARS!"

"You can't rule out everything," House said, stopping to pop a few Vicodin. "Besides, we have a new factor now."

"What?"

"No, who."

* * *

"I'm a factor in the SARS case?" Chase asked, sitting up in bed in his hospital room that looked very much like John Evans'.

"I thought you said that it wasn't SARS," Foreman said.

"Well, now, we can't rule out everything, especially if the tests aren't definitive," Cameron said, with a smirk at House. He scowled in return.

"So now you think I have SARS?" Chase asked, attempting to bring the focus of the conversation back to a way to diagnose him.

"Nope," House said.

"What?" Chase, Foreman, and Cameron asked together.

"I think that you've been infected with whatever it is that John has - "

"Which you still think could be SARS," Foreman interrupted.

House turned to him. "Shh, daddy's talking,' House turned back to Chase. "Where was I?"

"Me being sick."

"Oh, right. So, whatever has been causing symptoms in John is now going to be causing the symptoms in you. Probably."

"Probably?" Chase asked.

"Well, we can't just expect this be a happy accident that you've been infected with the same disease as our patient."

"Happy accident?"

Cameron's brain kicked into gear. "John's symptoms only began to show up last night, according to what he told me."

"Which means that you two aren't all that far apart as far as course of the illness is concerned," Foreman said.

"Exactly," House said.

"So we monitor Chase and John, and compare their symptoms and progression of the illness," Cameron said.

"Um, hello?" Chase said. House, Foreman, and Cameron turned to look at him. "What about finding a cure for me."

"Gee, that sounds like a great idea," House said in that patronizing tone of his, "but I think we need to figure out what's wrong with you first."

Chase fell back onto his hospital bed. "What happened to this being a simple case of SARS?"

* * *

"Chase's PCR test came back negative," Cameron reported, walking into Diagnostics where House was examining the white board. The board was now split down the center, John's symptoms on the left, and Chase's on the right.

Cameron came to stand by House, looking at the symptoms herself.

"Any change in either of our patience?" House asked.

"No, both of their conditions are stable."

House nodded.

They both stood there, in silence, staring at the white board. This was a puzzle. A puzzle was that becoming increasingly more difficult to solve.

There was a knock at the door. House turned to look at the open doorframe, and saw Stacy standing there.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?"

House grabbed his cane from the whiteboard, where it hung, and hobbled out of the room, following Stacy's lead.

"Are you ever going to report this SARS case? I've got Cuddy breathing down my neck now. I'm not sure if she thinks I'm incompetent at my job, or if she thinks I'm covering for you," Stacy said.

"There's nothing to report," House said, his voice flat.

"Greg…"

"It's not SARS."

Stacy stopped walking and turned to face him, a puzzled look on her face. "Then what is it?"

House stopped himself from smirking at her. He loved that expression on her face. The way her forehead scrunched up and she bit her bottom lip slightly. It was the expression she made whenever she asked him a question that she was sure he could answer. He knew that she was unaware of this fact.

"I don't know," he said truthfully, with just a hint of desperation in his voice.

"You'll figure it out," Stacy smiled at him. "You always do." She patted him on the arm and turned to leave. He grabbed hold of her arm. She turned to face him.

"Thanks," he said.

"Your welcome," Stacy smiled at him again, knowing exactly what he meant. Sometimes it still surprised her that she had ever cracked the puzzle that was Gregory House. She turned and made her way down the hall.

House stood there.

"Hello!" came an overly loud and emphasized greeting.

House rolled his eyes and turned to face Wilson. He had the look of that damned Cheshire cat on his face again. House was in for something. He walked straight past Wilson, in the direction of his office.

"So…" Wilson said.

"Are you trying to make a point, because if you are, I think you ought to make it fast before I decide to - "

"Stacy, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

House turned into his office. He attempted to close the door on Wilson, but he managed to squeeze through anyway. _Damn_.

"I think you do know what I'm talking about."

"Are you saying that I'm omnipotent and can read your thoughts all the time?" House said. "I know you have a high opinion of me, Wilson, but please, a man's got limits."

"You really are a narcissistic jerk, aren't you?"

"Why, yes, how nice of you to notice."

"Come _on_, House. I'm your best friend. I know you better than you think. You want Stacy back, and it's killing you that you can't have her."

House sat at his desk in silence. Wilson was right, of course. They'd discussed this once before, when he had treated Mark.

"She's married, House."

"You think I don't know that. I saved the husband's life, in case you forgot." The biting tone he had hopped for came out as merely annoyed.

House rubbed his eyes with the heals of both hands.

"I'm the guy," House said, remembering the conversation he and Stacy had had on the roof of the hospital, not so long ago.

"What?"

"Dr. House!" House's head jerked up to see Allison McGraw standing in the doorway of his office, her eyes wide in panic. "John needs help!"

* * *

House flew down the hall as fast as he could, cursing his leg all the way. He, Wilson, and Allison ran into John's quarantined room just as Foreman and Cameron did.

"He can't breathe!" Cameron said. "He's gone into acute respiratory distress."

"He needs to be intubated!" Foreman said, moving quickly to do it himself.

In a mater of seconds John was on a respirator and his vital signs were stabilizing. There was a sheen of sweat over his entire body, but he was freezing to the touch. Allison was clutching his hand, tears streaming down his face.

"W-what's wrong with h-him?" she managed to ask.

"Chase…" House said. Quickly he hobbled out of John's room and into a room across the hall.

Chase was asleep. House banged on the glass. Chase stirred and groaned.

"How do you feel?" House asked in an urgent voice.

"A bit groggy," Chase answered.

"Is that all?"

"No, I feel like I've got the flu or something. Whatever I've got, it's enough to make me not want to wake up for a week."

Then, just as abruptly as House entered Chase's room, he left. He made his way past John's room, where he could hear Cameron consoling Allison, and back to Diagnostics. He heard rapid footsteps behind him. It was Foreman.

"What's going on?"

House turned into Diagnostics and grabbed a marker from the table. He quickly wrote something on an empty space on the whiteboard and circled it.

"A H5N1 virus strain?" Cameron said, having just entered the room.

"The Bird Flu?" Foreman asked.

"Exactly."

* * *

_A/N: More to come, and soon, I hope. I know how I want everything to fall into place, I've just got to get it into writing. Please drop me a line and let me know what you think._


	4. Ailments and Cures

**I Should Have Known Better**

(Scene Four: "Ailments and Cures")

_A/N: Last installment! I shall now address a comment made to me: I did take literary license with this story. I tried to put as much information as I could, but I also added a few things, namely the Plague Center. In _The Stand_ by Stephen King Plague Centers are mentioned quite often, and I thought it would be a good thing to add here, and a way to get Stacy into this as more than a love interest. If it's good enough for Mr. King, it's good enough for me. Anyway, enjoy this bit, it's the last. I've made minor revisions to the previous chapters, nothing huge, just small mistakes and idiosyncrasies._

**Disclaimer: If only _I_ had created House!

* * *

**

"But the last outbreak of the Avian Flu was nearly over a year ago," Foreman said, "in Viet Nam."

"And John hasn't traveled outside the country within the past year," Cameron said. "He's barely even left the state."

"Avian Flu is transported to humans usually through direct contact with an infected bird or its droppings," House said, ignoring their comments.

"Usually?" Foreman asked

"In rare cases, if the strain of flu is strong enough, human to human contraction of the disease is possible, although the symptoms are much milder."

"Chase…" Cameron said.

"Exactly. Same symptoms without all the dramatics of being on the verge of death."

"Okay, say it is the Avian Flu," Foreman said, "How did John get infected? If there is a likelihood of more people getting infected, we need to move quickly."

"Gee, I wonder why I didn't think of that," House said, turning to Cameron. "Find out everywhere he's been for the past two weeks; make it a month if you can."

Cameron barely had time to nod before she sprinted out the door.

"You get to run some tests," House said, turning to Foreman. "Direct antigen detection, use a nasopharyngeal aspirate sample. You're most likely looking for the H5N1 strain."

Foreman, following Cameron's lead, sprinted from the room. House grabbed his cane from the white board and hobbled out the door after him.

* * *

"Avian Flu?" Chase said.

"Chances are, yeah," House replied.

House turned his back on Chase and began rummaging through the medical cabinet that sat on the right side on the room.

"How did I get the Avian Flu?"

"From your hall-mate," House indicated across the hall to John's room, where Foreman was preparing to extract the nasopharyngeal aspirate sample from John's nasal cavity. House continued to rummage.

"Where did _he_ get it? The last strain to show up was in Viet Nam."

"Good boy, you want a cookie for that?"

"Has he been to Viet Nam?"

"Look," House turned around, holding three face masks in his hands. He placed one over his nose and mouth as he continued to speak, "you, are stuck in there." House pointed into Chase's isolated environment. "The only people who are going to be useful at this point, are out there." House indicated out into the hall.

"So you want me to just sit here?"

"Preferably, yes."

House exited Chase's room and made his was across the hall. He threw a mask at Cameron and Foreman, and then left again.

* * *

Foreman hated quarantine rooms. That meant quarantine suits. He felt like one of the doctors who had experimented on Stu Redman during his stay in the Vermont Plague Center in _The Stand_. He buttoned, zipped, tied, and hermetically sealed himself into the damn thing, and made his way into John's isolated chamber.

John didn't even register Foreman's presence. Foreman found what he needed to obtain the nasopharyngeal aspirate sample, and began the procedure as quickly as the clumsy quarantine suit would allow.

He inserted the catheter carefully into John's left nostril, stopping when he was sure he'd reached the palate. He then applied the vacuum to the end of the catheter, and slowly withdrew the catheter with a rotating motion. He repeated the procedure again for the right nostril, flushed the catheter with 3mL of transport medium, and got the hell out of that room.

* * *

"Did John do anything out of the ordinary this week?" Cameron asked, sitting in a plastically upholstered chair, across from Allison in an empty waiting room.

"He went to school, went to work, and came home. He doesn't have time for much else. If I didn't go visit him, I don't think we'd ever see each other," Allison said.

Cameron always found it a little harrowing to meet a person with the same name as herself. She wasn't quite sure why. Obviously there were hundreds of people named Allison in the world, and she was just one of the many; but every time she met another Allison, Cameron had the sinking suspicion that she was being sized up. She had that feeling now, even though she was speaking with someone to whom she was quite a few years older.

"Where does John work?" Cameron asked.

"At a restaurant downtown," Allison said. "The River's End."

* * *

House stood in Diagnostics, staring at the white board. There was not much good in it. Not until Foreman came back with the results or until Cameron stopped chatting with The Girlfriend. It was one of the many moments House experienced in his line of work where he knew what was going on, he knew the cards of all the players but all he could do was wait until they made their move. House often found himself, at this point in the game, staring off into space and thinking, often times not about the case itself. This was one of those times.

Instead of thinking of the young man, in his charge, lying deathly ill somewhere in the hospital he was thinking of _her_. He had done this a lot; ever since Cuddy asked him whether he would mind if _she_ became part of the hospital staff. He said no. He meant yes. Yes he'd mind if he had to see the woman he was still in love with everyday. Yes, he'd mind seeing her go home every night to a home they didn't share. Yes, he'd mind having his heart trampled on, repeatedly.

Of course, he told none of this to Cuddy.

"Nothing," Cameron entered the room.

House nearly jumped out of his skin, suddenly seeing her standing right next to him.

"What?"

"I talked to Allison," Cameron said. "She said that John's just gone from school to work to home."

"Well those are the three places you'll soon be visiting."

"What?"

"Oh, I won't make you go alone. Take Foreman with you."

"Take Foreman where?" Foreman entered the room.

"Out for a drink, you've been working so hard," House said in his preferred scathing tone of voice.

"The results are back from both John and Chase's antigen tests," Foreman said, choosing to ignore the sarcasm.

"And?"

"Both positive. Virus strain H5N1. The Avian Flu."

"Start both of them on neuraminidase inhibitors. Both oseltamivir and zanimivir."

"I thought you said you were sending me somewhere," Foreman said.

"I lied."

* * *

"Okay, so now that we know _what_ is making our patient sick we need to find out _how_ he got sick in the first place," House said as he and Cameron climbed into her car.

"We should start with The River's End," Cameron said.

"Anything like Inspiration Point?"

"It's a restaurant. Allison says John spends more time pulling double shifts there than anywhere else."

They pulled out of the hospital and made their way downtown. Cameron found the restaurant without a hitch and managed to squeeze into a parking space that, to the naked eye, would have seemed impossible. House was impressed.

"Hello, and welcome to The River's End, party of two?" the concierge greeted House and Cameron warmly.

"No, but I would like to speak with the man who signs your paychecks," House said.

* * *

"We've had no complaints of any customers getting sick," the manager and co-owner of The River's End said for the third time. He was a short man with thick hair everywhere but on his head. His button-down shirt was rolled back to his elbows, and his tie was askew.

"We're going to need a sample of your poultry," House said, ignoring the manager.

"Of course!" he shoved a menu into House's hands.

House frowned at the menu.

"A frozen sample would be best," Cameron said, smiling politely.

"This is a pretty pricy place you've got here," House said, as the manager took them to the food storage room, in the back of which was the freezer.

"Ah, the price is well worth it! See here," the manager slapped a bulging burlap bag, "rice, straight from Viet Nam."

"All the way from Viet Nam, huh?" House said.

"Just got it in two days ago."

House caught Cameron's eye. Suddenly she understood why House had stopped moving toward the freezer.

"And, have you cooked with this particular batch yet?" Cameron asked. She just barely controlled the panic in her voice.

"Oh no no no," said the manager. "We've still got just a bit more up in the front to use before we open up one of these."

"Just for the sake of asking questions," House began, "who stocks you with this rice?"

"There's a small farm on the coast and we get the rice from them. Viet Nam is the world's leading exporter of rice you know."

"This farm, do they supply a lot of restaurants out here with their rice?" Cameron asked.

"Oh no," said the manager proudly. "Just us. I have my stock boy run down to get it special when it comes in and have him put it right here." He slapped the bag again.

House squinted in the direction of the bag. The outside was dirty.

"This small farm you get the rice from, do they have chickens?"

"Oh yes, yes. It's very Green Acers, you know what I mean? Cows, chicken, vegetables, rice, the works. But the rice is the only thing that's worth the bother of shipping, you know what I mean?"

"You're going to have to close your restaurant for a while."

"I can't do that! It's the middle of the day!"

"And you might not want to touch anyone with that hand; it's covered in dried chicken feces."

* * *

"Feeling better?" Allison smiled at John, holding his hand, in his new, normal hospital room.

"Much better," he kissed her hand.

Cameron, Foreman, and Chase walked down the hallway.

"All the employees at the restaurant have been vaccinated," Chase said, feeling much better himself.

"And John looks like he's ready to go home," Cameron said.

"So, are we going to b signing his discharge forms anytime soon?" Foreman asked.

"Soon enough," Cameron said. "I think."

* * *

"Here," House dropped a folder onto Stacy's desk. She looked up in surprise.

"What's this?" She stood and opened up the folder.

"It's my report," House said. "I fixed the sick guy. Now the Plague Center can have their fun." He moved to leave but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned to look at Stacy, who was remarkably close to him.

"Thank you," she said.

"Your welcome" he said, his voice barely audible to his own ears. He placed a hand on hers and squeezed it gently. He had a very sudden urge to close the gap between them, and quickly. He took a step closer to her.

"Goodbye, Greg." Stacy said. Her own voice was rather soft.

House released her hand and hobbled out into the hallway, afraid of what he'd almost done, but even more afraid of what to do now. He popped a few Vicodin before continuing the trek to his office. He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk, grabbed a bottle of scotch, and a plastic cup. A few minutes later he was on the roof. A few minutes after that, he was on his third drink. A few minutes after that someone, who had just hung up her white lab coat for the evening, sat down next to him.

"Someone told me I might find you up here," Cameron said.

"That fink," House mumbled.

They sat there in silence for a few moments.

"Don't think that just because I've had a few drinks that I'm going to open up to you," House said.

"How many more bottles of scotch would that take?" Cameron asked, a small smile playing across her lips.

"How many bottles can you find in my office?"

Cameron suddenly found herself thinking of the other Allison. She felt that same sense of inadequacy as before. A few floors below her sat a girl who cared so much about the man she loved that she'd force him into a hospital against his will. And a few doors down from that girl was a woman who had done the same thing. Both of these women had felt that overpowering love and need to protect someone. Cameron felt it too. The difference between the girl and the woman inside the hospital and Cameron? Those two women had been loved back. She looked over at House. She wished desperately to know what he was thinking.

House, was having one of those moments again, the one of complete calm and loss of power. He knew all the cards, he knew all the players, and he had made his move. It was no longer in his hands now. For his part, all he could do was wait.

* * *

_A/N: The end. Well, that's it! I hope it didn't disappoint. I know, I know, House didn't end up with anyone, so there are those of you looking at the subcategory of the story and going "I see the general bit, where's the romance?" I'm sorry, but House is torn, and I don't think that he can "end up" with anyone just yet. He's still in love with Stacy, that's painfully obvious, but he also has inklings of feelings for Cameron (which I think is a constant, but it's just overshadowed by Stacy at the moment). Anyway, point is this is House's romantic angst, not actual romance. So sorry._

_I'll be writing more with House, just perhaps not a lot of episode-like fics. A lot of research, and I'm sure I should have done more._

_Stay tuned!_

_And thank you to every single person who bothered to review this story: you all make the world go round._


	5. I Should Have Known Better

**I Should Have Known Better**

**By: The Beatles**

_A/N: I've decided to add to the end of all my fics, the song that inspired the title. The songs inspired me with a story, so why not propagate the song itself?_

**Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape or form, claim to take credit for the song. It belongs to the Beatles, being the true musical geniuses that they are.**

I should have known better  
With a girl like you.  
That I would love everything  
That you do  
And I do,  
Hey, hey, hey,  
And I do.

Whoa, oh, I never realized  
What a kiss could be.  
This could only happen to me.  
Can't you see?  
Can't you see

That when I tell you that I love you,  
Oh,  
You're gonna say you love me too,  
Oh,  
And when I ask you to be mine,  
You're gonna say you love me too?

So, oh, I should have realized  
A lot of things before.  
If this is love  
You've gotta give me more.  
Give me more,  
Hey, hey, hey,  
Give me more.

Whoa, oh, I never realized  
What a kiss could be.  
This could only happen to me.  
Can't you see?  
Can't you see

That when I tell you that I love you,  
Oh,  
You're gonna say you love me too,  
Oh,  
And when I ask you to be mine,  
You're gonna say you love me too?

You love me too.  
You love me too.  
You love me too


End file.
